mardi 1 juillet 2014

Manger - One Plate Short of Perfection

To clear up the mystery right off the bat, that one plate was one we didn't receive.  I'll explain later.

Manger - a relatively new neobistro in the 11th on a quiet portion of rue Keller near Bastille.  Yes, 'Manger' is both the name of the restaurant and what you do there (aka: eat).  Design-wise, Manger is a looker.  Open kitchen, vast space, large skylight,  elegantly geometical lines and blacks and beiges.  I liked this place right off the bat - casual, hip staff, large black and white portraits of the four chefs who participate in the 57€ 'diner des chefs' fixed menu in the evenings and themed lunches according to the day.









If you don't opt for the fixed price menu, you have some interesting alternatives, including a raw bar selection - red tuna, marinated salmon or beef) and dim sum (wok vaporized options).  The special 'diner' is composed of four courses, each conceived by a different chef.

After a tasty mise-en-bouche of colin spread on small toasts, the 'diner' commenced.

SALADE NIÇOISE À MA FAÇON
Chef:  YVES CAMDEBORDE - COMPTOIR DU RELAIS SAINT-GERMAIN, PARIS VI


This was more of a thick soup than a salad, accompanied with a dark brioche and mango ice - superb.

Next up:


CHIPIRONS, JUS DE CRESSON, NAVETS, POIREAUX
CHRISTIAN ETCHEBEST - CANTINE DU TROQUET, PARIS XIV ET XV


Nothing too ostentatious here, but an amazing combination - damn excellent.


Number 3, number 3:

POITRINE DE COCHON FERMIER MOELLEUSE DE CHEZ OSPITAL
LA COUENNE CROUSTILLANTE, PETITS POIS À LA FRANÇAISE
BRUNO DOUCET - LA RÉGALADE, PARIS XIV



 Yours truly had the alternative (bottom) for this course, eschewing pig the way I am apt to do - in lieu of the cochon, I had Canette laquee aux epices a risotto d'epeautre, orange/ tandoori.  Co. relished her cochon and I couldn't deny the alternative (available on the ala carte menu, 25€) was impressive - that risotto, I need more. 


And for dessert:


ÉCLAIR FRAISE PISTACHE MENTHE
CHRISTOPHE ADAM


 Eclairs aren't really my thing, but this one was well conceived.  It would have been nice to follow this up with a second dish, which is becoming modus operandi for dessert in other neobistrots around town.

Ah, yes, the dish that never came.  It might have been chocolate, it might have been something else.  But for some reason, I went into Manger thinking 5 chefs, 5 plates, and although the meal was excellent, at 57€, both Co. and I concluded that a 5th dish would have been appropriate.  Something was missing.  A couple patisseries at the end would have done the job.

Nonetheless, I should add that Executive chef William Pradeleix, who  worked with the renowned Hélène Darroze at the Connaught in London, has his apron in the right place.  A portion of the bill is relegated as a social contribution to the city's program for culinary training for unemployed Parisians.

To counterbalance the price, Manger has a more than reasonable wine list with several good inexpensive bottles to choose from.  I chose a St. Nicolas Bourgueil, as I am wont to do, and wasn't disappointed, especially at a mere 28€ for the bottle.  Total bill for two: 142€.

A year ago, the Conde Nast Traveler website dubbed Manger "the best new restaurant in Paris."  I wouldn't go that far, but it's definitely worth a visit.  


RESTAURANT MANGER
24, rue Keller
75011 Paris
tel: 01 43 38 69 15
website: http://manger-leresto.com/






samedi 19 avril 2014

Les Enfants Rouges - Blame It On The New York Times


Guilty as charged - like most everyone else in the neobistrot Les Enfants Rouges last Friday evening - Co. and I ended up there because of a one paragraph mention in an article titled 'France's New Wave of Chefs' that appeared in the March 29-30, 2014 edition of the International New York Times.  In this article, author/journalist Michael Steinberger makes the claim that it is foreign chefs who are the ones breaking new ground in the French restaurant scene, and buttresses his argument by highlighting four venues that "for the first time in a long time' is bringing French cuisine back to life.
I've already reviewed two of them here - Bones (which I liked, but Co. didn't) and Roseval (which we both agreed was way over-rated, and the arrogant, impolite staff didn't help matters).  A third, Albion, didn't look so hot when I checked out online descriptions and reviews.  The fourth did - the aforementioned Les Enfants Rouges - the focal venue for this installment.

Chef Dai Shinozuka
Here's what I think of Michael Steinberger - they shouldn't let him out of the Bronx (or wherever the hell he resides in the Big Apple).  I get it - you're a journalist, you have to come up with a catchy theme, so find a few new interesting bistrots in Paris with foreign chefs and, viola, you've got a theme.

Passing through the quaint Les Enfants Rouges market, with its food stands and quaint shops, we came upon the similarly named restaurant where I had reserved earlier in the week.  The name, by the way, has nothing to do with Chinese kids; rather, it's the name of an orphanage that used to exist in the area, where the children were clad in red clothing.  Les Enfants is another one of those small, storefront restaurants that are so common in Paris - even though we snagged a good little table off to the side, once the place filled up and the tables that ours sat between welcomed patrons in their chairs, we felt the big squeeze, and I was jabbed in the shoulder more than once by the guy sitting at the table behind me.

The room - another night (courtesy of  Paris Kitchen)
Things started off very nicely.  With only one other table occupied, by a single, elderly male, the place had a nice feel to it - we shared a little repartee with the waiter, and had a tasty amuse bouche of mushroom emulsion with lardon.  By the time the bread arrived, the place was transformed: Welcome to America.  Les Enfants was quickly filled with English-speakers and, being American myself (at least half of me), I think I know an American when I hear one, and trust me, they were all Americans.  The waitstaff consisted of a genial guy in his early 30s and the ever-smiling wife of Japanese chef Dai Shinozuka.  If you want to work at Les Enfants - and I think it's highly unlikely there are any openings - you'd better speak English.  If I heard the waiter explain in English what boudin noir was once, I heard it 20 times.  The banter grew louder and more obnoxious, Co. was virtually tackled by an impolite young female who butted her way before her to the toilettes, and that single guy I mentioned earlier ended up befriending  a poor quiet family trying to eat their dinner - he ended up standing by their table for 20 minutes relating his life story.  On to the food:

Co. enjoyed her boudin noir - it was prepared in a square that looked afar like a dark terrine, accompanied by a modest selection of fresh vegetables.  I had the marinated dorade, also accompanied with vegetables, and this was the highlight of the meal for me - excellent.  Here' what it looked like:
Marinated half-cooked dorade

The plates weren't nearly as intriguing as the entrees.  Solid dishes, but if this is the stuff of bringing Paris cooking back to life, good luck:

       
Stuffed calimar - Co. was underwhelmed and gave me one of two








Canette with vegetables and half a cooked pair

Both of these dishes were good, but not very memorable.  You know me, I'm not a big fan of pear, and I would have liked to have been asked how I wanted my canette prepared - it would have been rarer than this.

Desserts time - I ordered Les Enfant's much praised baba au rhum and Co. opted for the panacotta with chocolate and mint.  Both hit the spot - I could tell Co. liked her mousse-like panacotta because by the time I got around to asking her for a taste, it was gone.  My baba au rhum was delicate and moist - better than the one at Buerre Noisette?  Probably not, although Les Enfants would be in the running if, like Buerre Noisette, they would leave the bottle of rum on the table.

Baba au rhum - view 1


                                                  
Baba au rhum -veiw 2 (can you spot the 27 differences in the two photos?)


I am happy/sad for Les Enfants.  The staff seem to have their heart into it, and chef Dai appears to be genuinely interested in shooting for, as Mr. Steinberger concludes, 'homey, totally satisfying French cooking.'  Is this one of the best new neobistrots in Paris, breaking new ground on the restaurant scene?  Hell no.  I can think of 20 venues off the top of my head that are more original.  What's so special about a foreign chef in the kitchen, if there's little evidence of that chef's origins in the cooking?  I don't get it.  It must be nice to get a mention in the New York Times.  About 20 years ago, I was quoted in an article, and my phone didn't stop ringing for two weeks.  Get your restaurant mentioned there and you're in business.  But it would be a shame if all that business consists solely of one-time tourist visits.  Not the way to build a loyal clientele.  Between a rock and a hard place, like our table.

Two 3-course menus at 38€ a pop, plus a 30€ bottle of Saint-Nicolas de Bourgueil L'Hurluberlu - the bio wine - we were informed that it was a biologique wine only after drinking it) a big disappointment, flat, tasted precariously like grape juice = 106€, sans cafe.

P.S.  It would be nice to hear from readers, but if you don't speak French, maybe you don't realize how to participate.  The way to comment on this blog is to look below each installment for the phrase 'Aucun commentaire'- (no comments) and click there.  If there are comments, there will be a number in front of 'commentaire.'  Please don't spam this blog with overly effusive praise ('this is one of the most informative sites on the Internet') along with a link to your Indian restaurant site.



LES ENFANTS ROUGES
9, rue de Beauce
75003 Paris
tel: 01 48 87 80 61
website:  looks like they haven't updated the uninformative site that existed before the current owners took over Les Enfants Rouge wine bar - lazy.

samedi 15 mars 2014

Bistro Bellet - Belly Up!

It's been a couple weeks since Co. and I checked the latest PLACE TO BE IN PARIS, Bistro Bellet in the 10th, not far from Gare de l'Est.   I'll keep this short because, you're busy, I'm busy, who hell has the time?  Plus, I really don't remember much about the visit anyway.  Too much interference courtesy of another terrific dinner at Septime last night - what a great place.

Okay, if Bistro Bellet was great, I would probably be saying it and remembering a whole lot more, but I ain't getting any younger and neither are the neurons in the memory center of my brain.  Don't mind me, you don't need to know that.  Okay, BB may not be great, but it's pretty damn good.  And the great thing about BB is they are open early and they close late.  You don't find that too often on the restaurant scene in Paris.  As Le Fooding inquires: Où trouver une bouillabaisse à 23 heures un vendredi ?  I hear you.

BB filled up pretty quickly not long after we arrived around 8 pm.  Big spacious room, a bit too bright for my taste, but comfortable nonetheless.  Before I get into the details, let me give you a piece of advice if you, like me and Co., follow the Google map (or your handy smartphone app) to find the best route from Gare de l'Est.  Let me tell you, that's a short - but colorful - walk, harmless, but a little dicey nonetheless.  The direct mapped route has you walking through the Passage du Desir.  Sounds pretty romantic, doesn't it?  Well, it sort of is, until you get to the end and you see these two giant closed doors chained and locked.  That's right, the map doesn't show that, which apparently appears around sundown when people are going to the restaurant and Google photographers are snug in their lairs.  Back the way we came to the next through street to rue Du Faubourg St. Denis, numero 84.  A mere glitch in an otherwise pleasant evening.

The more I ruminate here about the BB dinner, the more I realize I'm looking forward to going back.  Traditional French cuisine, regularly changing carte, and enough originality to merit the trip to a dead end and then back again.  Unfortunately, I didn't photograph the carte, so I can't remember the specific make up of the dishes, but have a look anyway:

Poisson and roquette - excellent



bouillabaisse à 21 heures - their specialty, and it lived up to expectation


Tarte chocolate - good as it looks, but you probably won't write your grandmother about it

Bouille Bellet - not too impressive



As for entrees, we weren't too intrigued by the 5 or so offerings, so we ended up splitting a pretty standard salade de legumes.  That put us in the 2-course 32€ category, in lieu of the 3-course 36€ option, but as mentioned, there were a couple supplements.  A decent 27€ bottle of Cahors, bringing the total to 101, with a couple dreaded supplements thrown in.  Basically, BB is a bright new addition to the Paris restaurant scene, moving us in the right direction in terms of less rigidity in opening hours, reservations, stodginess and bread (Sangaré Bakary, chez Thierry Breton).  You're not going to get blown away by François Chenel's originality in the kitchen, but you won't walk away unhappy.

BISTRO BELLET
84, rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis
75010 Paris
tel: 01 45 23 42 06
Website:  What website?


samedi 1 mars 2014

Caillebotte - Isn't It Romantic?

The answer is: NO! 
And the question certainly was relevant on the Friday evening that Co. and I visited Caillebotte, the relatively new offspring of Franck Baranger (the chef), and Edouard Bobin's popular venue Le Pantruche.  Located not far from the Gare St. Lazare and the Grandes Boulevards in the South Pigalle district, you are guaranteed to get lost if you follow Google maps.  I speak from experience.  By the way, the Friday evening in question was Feb. 14th, better known as St. Valentine's Day.  Well into our meal, as I gazed lovingly into Co.'s deep, dark eyes, she looked at me and whispered, "It isn't very romantic."

She had that right - more on the modern side of traditional, Caillebotte, despite the misleading images you'll find at Googe images, is intimate, but not in a good way.  The space is pretty tiny, and if you don't luck out like Co. and I did and get seated at one of the solo two-seat tables, you can expect to be scrunched in-between other diners and hearing every word they coo.  We were lucky, as I mentioned, but still had the ornery waitress glaring at us from time to time, I guess a function of the fact that we arrived around 8 pm for our 7:30 pm reservation and came within, I surmised, about another minute or two from having our table handed over to a female duo waiting eagerly at the bar.  Ignorantly following the Google map in lieu of my more reliable little red book (Paris by arrondissements), I got us about as far away in the opposite direction as humanly possible before a human with half a brain would stop and say, "I don't think we're going in the right direction."

Well, enough complaining, if there's one thing that definitely recommends Caillebotte, it's the one thing that really matters - the food.  And here I had no complaints.  For a 3-course 35€ menu (plus - and I guess I can complain as I am wont to do when this element rears its ugly head - some supplements), the quality was well up to par.  Here's the barely visible carte from the evening of our visit:

click to enlarge


Round one, the entrees, went to your's truly with the poulpes - a unique combination of egg yolk, mushroom cream, chantilly fumee, etc.  Excellent.  Co.'s salade de legume d'hiver was less impressive, and pretty sparse when it came to the key ingredient that lured her in that direction, the smoked eel.  Still, pretty tasty with the chevre and parmesan crumble.


Salsifis aux poulpes de roche (+2€)




Salade de legumes d'hiver



Things stayed on a high note with the main plates.  I happily went with the one fish dish on the menu, the pave de lieu jaune, replete with the chapelure de pain brulee, cauliflower mousseline, and bouillon parmesan - the combination hit the spot.  Co. perked up with the scallops dish, St. Jacques d'Erquy, with fenouil de cafe and mousse d'oursine.  I remember reading a comment online from a dissatisfied diner who claimed to have been served unfresh scallops - no problem in that regard for Co.

Lieu jeune - terrible photo, I know, but sometimes with food porn, you've got to live with grainy.





St. Jacques d'Erquy (+5)



 Desserts hit the hat trick.

Biscuits russes (me, the sucker for anything pralinee)


Mousee au chocolate - not what you'd expect (in a good way, with black olives)


All told, with the two 'menus,' the supplements, a reasonably priced Pinot noir (25€), and one espresso (2€), the whole shebang came to a respectable 104€.  By dessert time, the St. Valentine's vultures - the ones with reservations for the 9:30 second seating - had begun to hover in the foyer and things got about as unromantic as possible.  The waitresses were stressed, the first sitting diners were lingering (me, over a cafe), and who knows what from the patrons who casually arrived a good half hour after us.  Not exactly the best ambiance, I grant you.   It may not be your candlelit lover's hideaway, and it may be spatially challenged, but as long as the food stays this good, they'll keep a-comin'.

CAILLEBOTTE
8 rue Hippolyte Lebas
75009 Paris
01 53 20 88 70
website:  don't think so.






mercredi 26 février 2014

Anahuacalli - Take That Marguerita And Shove It

Anahuacalli has long been registered in the locals' minds as the go-to place in Paris for decent Mexican grub.  Bear in mind, that's not saying much, since Mexican restaurants in Paris mostly suck, and that's putting it gently, especially when they are labelled 'Tex Mex."  Avoid at all costs, trust me.  Getting back to Anahuacalli, don't get too excited - it sucks, too.

Which doesn't mean you can't have an enjoyable evening with good friends and significant other, which is exactly what Co. and I experienced about a month ago on a Friday night in February.  Hell, I've long learned that when you drink enough tequilla, you can have an enjoyable night anywhere, regardless of poor service and mediocre food, which basically describes what's in store at Anahuacalli.

This wasn't a first visit to said locale for yours truly.  I checked out the venue shortly after their opening, something like a good 20 years ago.  What I remember is somewhat above average Mexican cuisine and a futile effort on the part of our server to overcharge us on the wine.  So admittedly, I didn't have a very good attitude going into this, and that wasn't lessened when I called to reserve and basically had to rely on a series of grunts and coughs to make myself understood to someone who's French was even worse than mine, if that is possible.

At any rate, we received a warm welcome, and were placed at a choice corner table, perhaps in part due to the fact that our friends were periodic patrons.  On their part, you can't beat a decent margarita, and they sometimes got some decent ones at Anahuacalli - as in, hit or miss.  On this evening in question, it was a large swing and miss.  Not being a margarita drinker myself - unless pressed, lightly - I probably wouldn't be the best judge of quality, but when I saw my friends ordering side shots of tequilla to spice up their cocktails, the writing was on the wall.

On to the food.  On the table upon arrival was the obligatory bowl of nacho chips and, for once in a Parisian Mexican, they weren't overly salty and stale.  Our entree consisted of a shared combination platter for four, the "surtido de entradas."  This was a pretty good way to start off, consisting as it did of guacamole, taquitos. ceviche, nopalitos, and tostada de boeuf.  Decent, but unspectacular guacamole and an above-average ceviche.  Here's what it looked like:


Surtido de Entradas entree



It was all downhill from there.  It took so long for our main plates to arrive, I swear, at some point I just completely forgot I was sitting in a restaurant having a meal and just figured I was hanging out with friends over a few drinks.  Eventually, when one of my dinner companions politely inquired of our waitress whether the kitchen had closed and no one had bothered to inform us, she explained that it was the fish that I had ordered that took long to prepare. Of course I had to order this dish, on the basic premise that any food that is flambeed with tequilla must be truly excellent.  Unfortunately, 
when the fish dish arrived, I wondered how exactly all that time had been utilized, because there was absolutely nothing special about it - it was downright nothing to write home about - or wait for an eternity for, whichever comes first.

Pescada a la Veracruzana - wait forever to be disappointed

Meanwhile, Co. had a chance to dig into her assortment of pollo en salsa verde, cochinita pibil, barbacoa, and frijoles negra, which sounds pretty fancy until you hear Co. blurt out, 'Isnt' this the same thing I just ate for the entree?'


Tacos de la Merced - deja vu?

Our friends weren't much more satisfied with their dishes, enchiladas verdes and something else.  The bill, including a bottle of wine, a couple tequillas, and several margaritas, a couple of which were graciously comped in response to a negative review, somehow barely cracked the century mark (102 euros), which is some small solace. 

So the verdict is in - Anahuacalli offers a very nice ambiance to spend a long evening catching up with good friends, at a reasonable price, and assuming you don't pay much attention to the food and service. 

I remember a very good, genuine Mexican - or was it Guatemalan - on the corner of rues Rambuteau and Quincampoix that is now long gone.  Will somebody please open up another restaurant like that in Paris? And if it already exists, please tell me about it.

ANAHUACALLI
30 rue des Bernardins
75005 Paris
tel: 01 43 26 26 53
website: http://www.r-m-g.fr/uk/restaurant-gastronomique-mexicain-paris-site-officiel.php#restaurant-gastronomique-mexicain-anahuacalli-notre-dame-paris-5.php

jeudi 13 février 2014

Postcards From Venice - Part 2, the Good Part


Okay, time to finish up my 2-part installment on my recent short-lived visit to Venice, Italy.  I know you'd probably rather I get back to the Paris scene, which is probably what brought you to this site, but I don't want to neglect 'and beyond.'  Don't worry, a lot of Paris stuff coming up, including Anahuacalli and Le Caillebotte. So stay tuned.

If you read Part 1, you might have gotten the impression that I was pretty fed up with eating out in Venice after having such a difficult time finding restaurants on my list that were actually open for business, that I just stuck to drinking, and ended up falling in the extremely poorly secured drop-off points along the canals.  Well, the good news is that I didn't forget the bottle and I didn't fall in.  What more can one ask for?  How about a decent lunch?

Impronta Cafe -
Dorsoduro 3815
+39 041 275 0386

Following my aforementioned failures to grab some cibo at Al Vecio Pozzo or Ristorante Ribot, I trekked on over to the apparently highly-regarded Impronta Cafe - on my 'go to' list and recommendation #2 for my hotel concierge.  I had plans to have dinner there, but desperately seeking a venue for lunch, the hour getting late, I figured I'd worry about dinner when I came to that bridge, and bridges are certainly not hard to find in Venice.  Rather modern looking by Venice standards, I had the impression this was more of a non-touristical trendy spot than one is apt to find on the way to the Ponte Rialto.  Having learned my lesson the night before regarding primo and secundo platos - too much, cheri - I opted for one pasta dish and dessert.  Both were mighty fine, starting with the tagliolini neri, black pasta with almonds laying in a sauce that I have now forgotten (15€) and followed up by a homemade tiramisu with fruit from the woods (6€), which was delicious, but for my taste, too fruity.  Topped off with a glass of house red (3.50€) and an espresso (2€), the bill came to a not-so-cheap 31.92€.

Tagliolini neri

Tiramisu with fruit and some kind of stupid, inedible flowery thing on top



Impronta has a kind of deli-style counter running along one of the walls where take-out of sandwiches, breads, and desserts is possible.  I hate to say that this nearly ruined my lunch.  A mother and her young son spent a good half hour between my table and the counter doing the sorts of obnoxious mother/child stuff that might be appropriate at the playground, but not beside one's table when you're trying to chill out from wandering aimlessly in a foreign city trying to figure out where one is.  After a while, they really got on my nerves, the kid doing all those things that civil French hate about kids, especially kids in restaurants/cafes - acting cute, acting out, goo gooing with the mother, spilling food on himself, and, well, just plain being a kid in a restaurant.   Eventually, my ornery-side got the better of me and I turned to the mother and in my chillingly hostile voice informed her that I was trying to eat.  She seemed to have gotten the message, but just as quickly was back to acting all obnoxiousy mothery again.  When she finally left, she turned at the door and bid me adieu, which nearly brought a smile to my face. 


Muro  -Campo Bella Vienna
San Polo 222     +39 041 24 12 339
One more to tell you about, dinner at Ristorante Muro.  Even further along the yellow brick road on the way to Ponte Rialto, after lunch at Impronta, I stopped in at Muro, another one on my list, and reserved for later that evening.  This was a Friday night, and by the time I was into my meal, the place was pretty packed with a mutti diverse clientele.  I must admit, I had a pretty good feeling about Muro when I stopped by at lunch time - it was quiet, yet busy, subdued lights, decent staff.  When I got there for dinner, oddly, it seemed brighter and less formal than my first impression.  I was seated at a small table near the back and, although my server kept forgetting to inform me of the night's specials, he turned out to be pretty helpful.  And I certainly enjoyed the meal, the best I've had in this young year.  I started off with a bowl of mussels and clams, Pepata di Cozze (12€).  Man, this was good.  The sauce was spiffed up with garlic and lopped up with the toasted bread.

Pepata di Cozze



When I commended the dish to the server, he opined, 'the best is yet to come,' and he was correct.  I ordered the special - spaghetti and lobster Primo del Giorno (20€).  I had been tempted by the whole grilled fish, but the price by the kilo looked risky.  I shied away from the grilled seafood platter after my disappointing plate the night before at Osteria ae Cravate.  The Primo, though, was superb, with a half lobster to go along with spaghetti with shrimp and tomato that was spiced up by something akin to the great Old Bay seasoning, but less salty and a bit spicier.  Encore.


Mamma mia - Primo del Giorno


Nothing much appealed to me on the dessert menu, so I opted for the tiramisu(5€) again - also homemade, simpler and better than the pretty decent one I had earlier in the day at Impronta.


Muro's tiramisu, sans fruit from the woods


View from my table at Muro, early Friday evening
 Muro doubles as a pizzeria, and pizza was a big calling card at several of the tables during my visit.  Just sayin'.  The tab, including a half carafe of red came to paltry 49€ - can't argue with that.  Muro may not be on the lists in all the guides, but I heartily recommend it, so there.

Just to add, I was among the guests at another dinner at the Casino of Venice.  It was a pretty good meal, featuring some decent artichokes, which is about all I can remember, so the wine must have been pretty good, too.  I did have a chance to wander to the casino part of the Casino with a couple acquaintances, fully armed with my free 10€ chip and admission paper (following the vetting of my passport).  Hello, David Lynch.  No Sharon Stones throwing chips in the air - this place was somber.  There were several adjoining rooms housing roulette and baccarat tables and populated by cigar-smoking Italian ghouls and their gals.  I placed my chip on a roulette table and left without it about 10 seconds later.  Back out into the night, free shuttle boat back to the Palazzo Roma, and I got back to my hotel without falling into the canal.  Goodnight.